


08 - An Animal in Your Care

by autoschediastic



Series: Farther than Guns Will Go [8]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Breathplay, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemas, Established Relationship, Large Insertion, M/M, Power Imbalance, Violence, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:27:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoschediastic/pseuds/autoschediastic
Summary: Excessive appreciation of just how goddamn sexy dangerous Reno is, hardcore filth, and Rufus reevaluating the nature of their relationship. Part of the Farther than Guns ‘verse but easily read as a stand-alone.He knows not to take anything for granted with Reno. He looks forward to it. He fucking luxuriates in it, and still he isn't prepared.
Relationships: Reno/Rufus Shinra
Series: Farther than Guns Will Go [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/6523
Comments: 15
Kudos: 35





	08 - An Animal in Your Care

There’s always pleasure in watching Reno work. 

In an office that smells of fresh paint and new leather, Rufus sits back as Reno puts a dozen fresh-faced recruits through a slice of urban hell in the Turks' dedicated holo-sim. Though the majority of candidates in these hiring rounds perform well, the Turks' ranks continue to grow at a glacial pace. Half the current number will be dismissed by dawn. Two-thirds of the remaining, by next week. One out of the final two will receive a formal offer from Tseng, but all of them, regardless how far they make it in the process, will receive generous compensation. 

Reno takes one of the more promising candidates down with a vicious succession of strikes and darts away before she hits the ground. Curious, Rufus watches as she breathes carefully, one eye kept on her surroundings as she takes stock of her injuries. She's very methodical about it, even going so far as to twist thick, curly hair into a dark tail and refashion it into the bun that one of Reno's hits dragged free, and Rufus would almost think she's reluctant to return to the fray until she stands with her weapon gripped tightly in her off-hand, her collarbone obviously broken. 

A seventy-thirty chance she'll drop out, Rufus decides, eyeing the purpling on her jaw. But after a moment more to collect herself, she slips off into the shadows, intent on her target. She reminds him strikingly of Elena, cautious yet stubborn. He wonders if she'll take her revenge on Reno just as viciously once she learns how blatantly he held back. 

Beyond the plate glass windows at Rufus's back, Midgar is shadowed and silent. In a post-reactor world, even what little remains of the city is too large to power. Small communities have sprung up across the old sectors like stars in the sky, some willing to deal with Shinra for reliable energy, others tapping into the lines to steal it. Neighbourhood Watches, once the sole domain of the slums, are close to matching Shinra's numbers. 

Here at the heart of his limping empire, the ever-present hum of electricity is almost nonexistent. It wasn't so long ago that the Shinra Building was the brightest star of all, but now come nightfall the hallways are dark, the escalators powered down, all but a handful of elevators locked.

But, like the woman, it still stands. The people sorely miss their mako-powered lifestyle, and even those who condemn it are desperate for something to push back the black. 

On-screen, a single ill-thought action takes an unfavourable candidate down. He doesn't make a habit of questioning his Turks' decisions any more but felt compelled to ask Reno why this one. 

_Gotta let some of 'em crash 'n' burn early on, boss,_ Reno said, shrugging as he dropped his filthy boots onto a pristine glass table. People need motivation to take risks, and a reason to believe Shinra will take care of them the same as it always did. 

What rankles isn't that Reno's right, or the hundreds of thousands of gil sunk into the project--he has more than enough to rebuild and to ensure whatever resources the planet has left are in Shinra's name. What he hates most is that he's forced to spend so much time and energy on regaining the trust his idiot father broke in pursuit of a pipe dream. 

At best, the populace believes Shinra lied about the dangers in using mako so freely; at worst, that it didn't even know about the potential consequences. His campaign to lay the blame where it solidly belongs is still in its infancy, but in the end, he's confident the people will forget these few dark years. Again it'll be as it always was: Shinra will provide.

Rufus scrolls through the feeds until finding Reno crouched behind the smoking ruins of an overpass. Reno's an easy read in the field--he calculates quickly and moves decisively, switches tactics in an instant and rarely second-guesses. His mind is as swift and as agile as his body and ideally suited to support the massive spread of Shinra's interests. 

And here he'd once thought Tseng a fool for choosing Reno as his second-in-command.

Reno leaves his cover to stalk and neutralize another recruit who had gotten too distracted by the core mission to maintain her periphery. It attracts the attention of yet another, but by the time he arrives, Reno is gone. Rufus quickly flicks through the feeds to locate Reno again. 

Already several blocks away, simulated firelight from a burning dumpster flickers across Reno's face. The two careful slashes of red high on his cheeks are brighter than the blood spattered across his shirt. Sweat sheens at his hairline, betraying the apparent ease he avoids both an automated drone and the single candidate who's decided Reno is a threat to the mission that can't be ignored. 

Rufus shifts, uncrossing his legs as Reno circles, obviously aware he's now the one being hunted. It doesn't stop him from taking out yet one more of his hunter's rivals, slender hands strangely graceful as they crush the man's squat, well-muscled neck. The man goes down before Rufus can finish weighing the odds of a tap-out. 

Reno kneels above the unconscious man, his back to the camera. Checking for a pulse, perhaps. Then Rufus spots the rope.

An odd choice, Rufus thinks, and leans closer to the screen. It's entirely Reno's choice who is nominated for dismissal. Incapacitating the man seems pointless and will only keep him from rejoining the exercise if he comes around before it ends. 

Reno drags the bound man into an alley mostly concealed by a fallen building and an overturned van, emerging a few seconds later to hunker down by the van and scan the street. The way is clear, but he doesn't move.

"What are you waiting for?" Rufus murmurs, propping his chin up on one hand. He has a much more advantageous view than anyone on the ground, and as far as he can see, there's nothing keeping Reno pinned. 

When his gaze slides back to Reno he finds a cocky grin aimed straight at the camera waiting for him. Slowly and deliberately, Reno winks. 

Rufus sits back, frowning at the screen as Reno vanishes again into the dark. He wouldn't be at all surprised if Reno's aware he's still in the building, and from there it's not much of a stretch to assume where he is, or even why he's decided to stay late. 

What's impossible is for Reno to know that he's being watched specifically, at this exact moment, from this particular camera. With Reno being Reno, he's most likely peacocking on the off-chance of an audience.

The spike of interest low in Rufus's gut doesn't care. He cycles through the cameras again, starting with the most likely direction Reno took off in, and finds him taking shelter behind a suspiciously untouched convenience store when the boutique next door has been obviously ransacked. 

Not taking shelter. Waiting, and again looking directly at the camera, his mouth slanted and sly. 

Momentarily dumbfounded, Rufus can only stare as Reno catches the edge of one of his gloves in his teeth and tugs, leaving it dangling from his mouth as he tilts his chin high. He touches two fingertips to the blood staining his neck, impossible to tell if it's his or not, and drags them down and across his chest, red smearing thin in their wake. Then, taking the glove out of his teeth, he delicately, lingeringly, licks the blood from his fingers. 

Drawing in a slow breath, Rufus sits back, his grip on the arms of his chair carefully light. The rest of his evening had already been blocked out to take Reno home and deliver a long overdue lesson on the importance of respecting Rufus's schedule. He had begun his day with absolutely zero intentions of indulging in anything more than a quick blow when Reno inevitably wandered up to the top floor with energy to burn. Intentions that were blithely shoved aside by Reno's filthy mouth at his ear, Reno's weight on his back pinning him to the desk and hands digging bruises into his hips as Reno fucked him bare, left him tender and wet inside and frustratingly distracted by it for the rest of the afternoon. 

What should have been the deeply satisfying experience of observing one of his most skilled employees at work now serves only to wind that nagging irritation tighter.

Rufus waits impatiently for the final candidate to crumple in a heap. Bruised and beaten, those applicants still conscious gather slowly together as the simulation blinks out, revealing the sterile white room with walls peppered by scanners and sensors, cameras and projectors. A two-person med team makes an appearance as Rufus reaches for the in-house. 

"Bring the car up," he instructs, taking the time to shut the system down properly. "Have Reno meet me at the elevator. Yes, immediately. Yes, thank you, I'm aware. Immediately."

Rising, his entire body alight at the thought of Reno coming to him smelling of sweat and blood and flooded with adrenaline, Rufus fetches his coat.

*

The relatively short journey from the office to Rufus's penthouse is a blur of grasping hands and wet, thrilling heat. His mouth feels sore already, his lips thick from the hard scraping edges of Reno's teeth. Soft breath stirs the hair at his nape and he shivers, hand slapping to the door for support as clever hands steal up under his shirt.

Only rarely does he choose form over function, and never has he regretted his choice of an old-fashioned lock in place of an electronic keypad. He appreciates the security provided by the biometric elevator, but despite Tseng's very convincing arguments as to why multiple layers of such would be wise, he prefers the solid simplicity of a key in his hand. 

Or he had, until he nearly drops it for the third time as Reno eels in close, messy kisses just catching the corner of his mouth. 

"Reno," he repeats, remembering with fondness the days when he could stand unmoved by Reno's insistent, unrelenting eagerness. They're not so long past that he doesn't at least consider it.

Reno says, "Yeah, boss," slipping an arm around Rufus's waist to tug roughly at his belt. He doesn't even bother to pretend that he's listening. 

The door finally gives way and Rufus stumbles across the threshold, twisting free of the trap of Reno's arms. He shrugs out of his jacket, the crisp lines of his suit a shambles with fine wool crumpled and tugged askew, stained in places from Reno's too-hasty cleanup. He supposes it's his own fault, and he'd object to it purely for form's sake if Reno weren't well-aware of how much he enjoys the cause if not the result. 

Curious as to how tractable Reno feels tonight, he lifts a staying hand when Reno turns from securing the door. Reno's gaze slides from his hand to his face.

"What'cha thinking, boss?" he asks, settling back against the door with a quiet thump and folding his arms. 

Rufus untucks his shirt, starts unbuttoning it from the bottom up. With Reno's eyes gone bright, glittering in the dark like a memory of what Midgar's nightscape used to be, holding him in check with one simple, unspoken command feels more like handling a bomb cobbled together from scavenged parts and a prayer. 

Which is more thrilling, Rufus wonders, to let it sit quietly with dangerous potential or to risk it going off in his face? "You're not going to be able to wait, are you."

Cheerily, Reno says, "Nope."

Leaving his shirt halfway undone, Rufus strips off the ruin of his tie. The sound of silk sliding through his palms is enough to have Reno straightening up a little, his posture still casual but his interest obviously piqued. 

His impatience is a tangible, prickling heat pressed against Rufus's skin. His gaze tracks the tie as Rufus loops it around his neck, then flicks upward in a clear question: Is this a threat to be on his best behaviour, or a treat to entice him into it?

But if his obedience is never a guarantee, his loyalty is. He lifts his chin, stretching his neck out for Rufus to cross the tie over itself, both hands wrapped securely in each end. His eyelashes flutter briefly as the material pulls taut, that and the slight quickening of his breath, the twitch of his fingers curling tight in the crook of his elbow the only signs of how carefully he holds himself in check. 

Quivering anticipation spreads slowly from the very centre of Rufus's chest. Despite everything, he remains the most powerful man in the world, but there's very little left that makes him feel it as deeply as this. He presses close, bracing his hands against the door on either side of Reno's head, and relishes the thrum of banked adrenaline coursing through lean muscle. 

"Already in a mess," Reno says, his lips licked wet, his gaze fixed avidly on Rufus's mouth. "You want to do me right here? Just..." he trails off on a low moan, craning his neck forward to chase the brush of Rufus's lips. "Just get--" and he breaks off again, breath sliced thin as the tie digs in, skin pinched and flushing red at its edges. "Fuck."

Rufus scrapes his teeth against the tendon pulled in sharp relief between Reno's neck and shoulder, muffling a groan as Reno hisses. Strong fingers dig into his sides, clutch and release with a tiny tremor, and the sudden urge to mark pale skin rises up so fiercely he immediately smothers it just to make sure he still can. As difficult as it's become to deny Reno, it's grown much more so to deny himself. 

Harder still when a hand slides into his hair, gripping tight, almost shaking. _Needful._ Reno's breathtaking like this, his body ripe with sincerity, his lips so close to giving up a genuine plea. He’s a man built of contradictions, willing to demand so much and at turns refusing to ask for a thing. He might try begging, bribery, or even goading Rufus into giving him what he wants, and it's impossible to tell which. 

Reno would give the oddsmakers at the Gold Saucer a fit. Rufus's skin tightens with an anxious, eager thrill as he waits to see which it'll be. 

Time stretches thin as Reno's eyes narrow to slits, slows and drags to a shuddering halt and leaves Rufus the one with stale breath clogging his throat. In all the months they've been fucking, Reno's sidestepped and slithered free, sucker-punched and bent just enough, _just enough_ to come out whole and unbroken on the other side. 

Maybe the day Reno doesn't will be the day he's purged of this madness, though he doubts it. 

Every trace of softness in Reno sloughs away. His mouth, lips flushed and parted before, curves into a smile as sharp as shattered glass caught in the sun, dangerous and dazzling. Reno's weight shifts as he spreads his legs and settles Rufus between them, a hand slipping easily inside Rufus's clothes to fan out over the cheek of his bare ass, fingertips dipping into the cleft. The tie goes slack in Rufus's grip. 

"If you're gonna be that way about it," Reno says, his voice a low, lazy purr, "I could push you around s'more. Fuck you up against this door hard as I had you bent over that fancy desk."

"You'd like that," Rufus says, blood rushing loud in his ears. "You were--" he nudges at Reno's mouth with his own, fighting back a hiss as Reno's fingers slide into him easily, his hole still a little loose and slippery. He licks his lips, tip of his tongue skimming Reno's, and draws in a quiet, steadying breath. 

"You are," he corrects, adjusting his grip, "so fucking--" jerking the tie tight, greedy for the air that escapes warm lips before Reno thinks to conserve it, "-- _hard_."

Reno jerks, his hand smacking flat against the small of Rufus's back. He tries too late to drag in a breath, his mouth working silently. The fingers of his other hand, still shoved rudely down the back of Rufus's pants, curl in slowly to form a loose fist. 

Keeping the pressure even, Rufus eases back to watch as his eyes slip shut, lashes dark against the deep flush creeping across his face. His jaw clenches and his chest starts to heave shallowly, and by now his heart is pounding, his ribs aching and crushing against lungs starved for breath. Pinned against the door and pressed close, his body is a long, hard line of muscle pulled tight and trembling. Soon he won't be able to resist the animal instinct to fight. 

A handful of seconds tick by. Reno's eyes blink slowly open, defiant and somehow indolent as they fix on his. A few seconds more and he bucks against Rufus's hold, clawing at the back of Rufus's shirt with his teeth grit in a twisted snarl of a smile. 

One small concession, a simple gesture, would bring relief in a sweet flood of oxygen. Even without it and pushed close to his limit, he could put Rufus down in moments if he wanted. If the feral edge lurking in dazed eyes is anything to go by, not only does he want it, he'd enjoy it. 

Given Reno's nature, it's all too easy to mistake him for a pushover and a fool when he's far from either. He doesn't just allow Rufus to test his limits, he invites and even dares it. He's fallen to his knees beneath the weight of shattered boundaries, and with sly, knife-edged smiles, asked for more.

In what feels like an hour but is in reality less than a blink, Reno's head tips forward, at first his struggles weakening and then his strength abruptly draining away. He sags heavily in Rufus's hold and the thrill of it is dizzying. The greasy black temptation to persist until it's almost too late, to test exactly how deeply Reno is willing to surrender body and soul to him, seizes him viciously by the throat. 

The tie falls slack. He can't trust himself with that, not right now and not with Reno. 

Coughing violently, Reno frantically sucks in air and chokes on it. He shakes his head as if that'll clear his airway and coughs again, curling tight against Rufus's chest as he dissolves into a fit of it. 

Rufus, his gut churning with too much to name, strokes a hand over his hair and down his back as he shudders and struggles to breathe. Gradually, the wracking fades to wheezing, then to deep, cautious breaths. His tongue flicks briefly over trembling lips. When he scrubs his tears dry on Rufus's shirt and looks up, hair fallen over his flushed face, something smug sits in leaden, pleasure-dark eyes. 

Rufus steps back, his legs weak and shaky. Delicate wrist bones grind against his fingers as he hauls Reno upright. "Get your shirt off and go wait for me on the bed."

It takes a moment more for Reno to stand completely under his own power. His gaze slides unhurried from his wrist in Rufus’s hand to the tie trailing limply to the floor in the other. It isn't hesitancy that makes him slow to say, voice thick and rasping, "Whatever you say, boss."

Rufus turns away as Reno winds his way through the dimness, shedding clothes haphazardly in his wake. 

The kitchen is dark but immaculate, the path to the sink direct. The cold shock of water on Rufus's face, dripping from his hair and running in rivulets down his neck to plaster his shirt to overheated skin, goes a long way in settling the twisting in his gut. Each movement carefully measured, he slicks his hair back, dries his face, then his hands. 

In the bedroom, Reno sits obediently on the foot of the bed, his features cast in shadow by the bright slash of a searchlight though the open window. It's begun to rain softly, further muffling Midgar's still-unfamiliar quiet. Undoing the rest of his shirt, Rufus lets it slide down to hook on his elbows before shaking it free. Reno's attention doesn't waver as he hangs it from the doorknob, as it'll have to go straight to the laundry along with everything else. Already one or two of Reno's suits hang in the spacious closet, convenient and far preferable to starting the day already rumpled when he stays the night. 

"I'll be a moment," Rufus says, padding on bare feet toward the bathroom.

Reno smirks, elbows resting on his thighs, hands dangling between his spread knees. He waits until Rufus is in the doorway, about to flick on the light. "Boss."

Twisting to slant a look over his shoulder, Rufus lifts a brow. 

"C'mere."

"I said—"

"Give me a kiss."

Folding his arms, Rufus turns to face the bed. The shadows are too deep to do much more than hint at the shape of Reno's body, but Rufus's palms tingle with the knowledge of each jut of bone, every sinewy muscle, and all the secret places Reno is softly vulnerable. The darker tail of his hair curls over one shoulder, a softly sweeping caress. 

Tongue pressed tight to the backs of his teeth, Rufus says, "Only one?"

Reno touches the livid mark on his throat that, by morning, will turn a brutal, sulky purple. "Yeah, sure. Just the one."

Propping a shoulder against the jamb, Rufus leaves one hand tucked into the crook of his elbow and lifts the other for his fingers to curl lightly over his mouth. There's heaviness in the air not from the rain. 

Reno's reputation for a loud mouth and brash recklessness comes from a few very select occasions; much like the city itself, his energy and all its contained potential hovers always at the edge of awareness. He could be settled deep in a chair with legs sprawled, hands loose on his belly and chin in his chest half a breath from sleep, and still set a room to buzzing.

Eyes narrowing, Rufus asks, "What are you after, Reno?"

"Didn't want to stop, did you?" Reno counters, the words quick as a shot but smacking into their target with a dull, meaty thud. 

He's known for a while now that all this time spent together would give Reno an edge in reading him, and at times even found it an asset. Better judgement would have him ignore the insight. Less dangerous by far would be to acknowledge it and carry on as intended regardless. 

Being prudent in his choices hasn't brought them here. 

His arms drop as he pushes away from the wall. Closing the distance from the bathroom to the bed is like wading through stagnant, reed-choked water. Skin prickling, warming with effort; another step and a wash of cooler air too short-lived to be any sort of relief.

In the end, admitting it is surprisingly easy, and quickly measured worth the cost. 

Hands capable of a violence beyond even Rufus's imagination grasp at his hips, hold him steady. Reno buries his face in Rufus's groin, the soft hair brushing his belly a sharp contrast between the press of hot breath and hard, sucking kisses. Too many layers sit between him and Reno's mouth, easily remedied but his fingers are locked in place on Reno's bare shoulders, digging into flesh as Reno drags in slow, deep breaths and losing them one after the other on hungry, frustrated groans as he tries to nuzzle in closer still. 

"Just can't fucking get enough," Reno mutters, and for a moment, fumbling at his fly, Rufus isn't certain which one of them he means. The tab slips from his fingers, barely undone before Reno's grabbing at his ass with his clothes still in the way, digging in again at the cleft and making cotton cling, drag against sticky skin. You smell so good, boss. So fucking good. Get your dick out, get it out so I can suck it."

Rufus grasps at the shambles of a plan he can't fully recall. Buying time to gather his thoughts, he pets at Reno's face as if Reno is the one in need of help focusing. He catches the single lock of hair that tickles the back of his hand and twists it idly though his fingers, clinging to a centre of calm in the storm of chaos Reno is so adept at reducing him to. 

It's not enough for Reno now, or maybe too much of the wrong thing. He surges to his feet, jaw clenched around snarling words. His steadying hold turns hard and demanding, pinning Rufus in place to roughly grind against. "You're such a fucking—" he grunts, whatever he meant to say cut short by the flesh of Rufus's neck mounded in his teeth. "Drive me crazy. _Move_."

Shoved stumbling back, Rufus sucks in a sharp breath. Reno rounds on the bed, yanking the coverlet free and flinging it on the floor. It's a struggle to keep his voice even, cool with lust a smouldering coal in his belly. "What are you doing?"

Reno's smile slants razor-sharp in the dark. "You wanna know? You get the fuck down there. Hands and knees," he says, and shoves aside the closet door. He rifles through the toys far more calmly than expected, picking up one to test its girth and setting it aside to size up another. 

A low thrumming like pure electricity starts creeping upwards from the base of Rufus's spine. He shakes his head to clear it echoing in his ears. "Hands and knees," he repeats dryly, his gaze sliding from Reno to the rumpled blanket. It snaps back when Reno tells him to catch, his hand coming up just in time to close around a very particular, moderately-sized jar. He turns it over in his grip, anticipation thick like syrup rising up into his throat. "What would you like to do to me, Reno?" 

This is the part of Reno seen so often only at a distance. For all his vicious efficiency, Reno can and will loaf about to the point of careless indifference. Taking that at face value is a mistake Rufus is careful not to make, as the things Reno considers not worth getting worked up over are anything but predictable. 

That thought is at the forefront of Rufus's mind when Reno says, "Not what I _want_ to do, boss. It's what I'm gonna."

Rufus regains a moment of steadiness by straightening out the coverlet with meticulous care. The rest of his clothes are set aside with the same. A damp breeze from outside pushes at his hair, raises goosebumps in a wave along his arms. His skin grows tighter still when Reno turns, having chosen a thick plug Rufus recognizes well. Substantial enough, it isn't the biggest in his collection, though it seems even larger held in one fine-boned hand. 

Breath shivering over dry lips, Rufus sinks to the floor. From above and behind, Reno makes a sound as if hurt. "Wider."

Rufus drops to his elbows, knees skidding apart, spine arched and ass lifted. The fresh breeze is too weak to reach far into the room, a distant tease against hot flesh. 

"Looks so good," Reno says, footsteps stopping at the edge of the blanket. "You like it, yeah? On display, showing off. Smug as shit, knowing my dick's so goddamn hard it feels like I haven't got my hands on you in weeks."

The buzzing in Rufus's head grows louder. "Yes," he hisses through teeth grit against the noises jammed up in his throat like the morning trains used to be. 

The blanket tugs in Rufus's grip. Anticipation bites at him when Reno's body heat presses close, burrowing deeper into flesh as he waits for a touch that doesn't come. Patience isn't one of Reno's few virtues. His hands should be on Rufus by now, greedy enough to be everywhere at once. 

"How loose d'you want to be?" Reno asks.

Off-balance, Rufus shakes his head. He _knows_ not to take anything for granted with Reno. He looks forward to it. He fucking luxuriates in it, and still he isn't prepared. "I don't need much, but—"

Slender fingers coated in thick, waxy lubricant sink into him easily, steal away the rest of his words. His warning that it's big enough Reno will have to go slow is lost in a breathy exhale. He's caught again by the memory of taking Reno's fist and how willingly he'd made himself helpless. As good as it is to be packed full, stretched wide enough that it sparks the thrill of feeling like he's about to be split in two, it can't compare to the pure pleasure of Reno's clever fingers twisting inside him. 

"Didn't ask that," Reno says, curving those fingers deep.

Rufus sucks air in through his teeth. "Fuck me with your fingers a bit longer."

There's a keenness to Reno's flippant, "Whatever you say, boss," this time that Rufus hasn't heard before. Something sharp and slicing that deserves contemplation. He wants to know more about this new tone, to turn it out and examine its edges, but Reno chooses that moment to finally touch him in earnest. 

It starts as a soft caress of his hip, then fingers slipping free to stroke over his hole, down across his balls. The other hand tracing up the ladder of his spine all the way to his shoulder blades, skin left painfully alive in its wake. Down again, inside him again, knuckles gentle against the back of his thigh, fingertips angling across his lowered chest, over and over with the feedback looping in on itself until it’s all Rufus can do not to squirm. 

It only grows worse with Reno murmuring about wanting to roll him over, get him on top and fuck him—fuck sweet and slow until he can't hold himself up anymore, can't take being draped all over Reno loose-limbed and panting with nowhere to go and nothing to do but beg to be stuffed. 

It’s all too much. Only minutes ago it was supposed to be Reno on his knees struggling to take everything Rufus wanted to give. He wants so desperately to crawl away, regain some measure of control. He’s too easily laid bare by Reno’s touch, already too raw to take the beautiful filth that falls from Reno’s mouth. He buries his face in his arms and bites at his own flesh to keep the pleading noises building up inside him at bay. 

“But you don’t want that,” Reno goes on, moving slowly to give him plenty of time to register the fingers gathered in a tight knot at his hole. “Slow and easy would bore the fuck outta you.”

Rufus’s stomach bottoms out, the sudden fullness not enough to stop the realization that he isn’t nearly as certain as Reno about that. Any complaints he has about how it works between them are superficial at worst. It works, even when it shouldn’t.

He thinks of his visit to Reno’s apartment and the taste of worn leather on his tongue, and wonders if he can take Reno like this without losing his mind. 

“You want me to fuck your little hole wide open on this big, fat plug. Shove it so deep in your guts your goddamn teeth ache.”

Rufus shudders and moans, the words striking like the kiss of whip. He can’t be properly resentful of how quickly Reno might break him, have him truly beg. Already this isn't nearly enough. "Yes, do it," he hisses, unsteady with his hips aching from how wide he's spread his legs, body begging where he won't. "Give it to me, fuck me with it."

He chokes on a groan as Reno's fingers roughly pull free, replaced with the shove of silicone. The ache of being stretched so hard and fast cuts off his next breath, leaves him with a growing lump in his throat. If he doesn’t relax, it’ll be truly painful. He focuses on his breath first, drawing in a fresh lungful as he struggles to get his muscles to ease in stages, to open up and take the steady push that Reno forces into him. 

A near-howl creeps up his throat, dislodging the knot there as the toy stretches him wider. Another centimeter forces into him, then another and another, the plug getting thicker with each twisting push. He’s already stretched to his limit, the ache threatening to turn into the white-flare of real pain. “Wait— Fuck—” he gasps, for once not certain at all if Reno will listen.

He can’t take it all. Not in one go.

Another push and he’ll be split and bleeding. 

The pressure doesn’t ease. His heart wedges into his throat, cutting off his breath and any hope he has of forcing out the frantic cry trapped behind it. Any hope he had of relaxing enough to make it easier vanishes, leaves him tense and with a prickling, unfamiliar fear jittering beneath his skin.

“Shh,” Reno gentles. “You can take it.”

 _He can’t._ He claws at the floor, his body quaking, that nervous skittering turning into rolling waves that chill his guts. Reno has to know he can’t, not without injury—

Reeling thoughts screech to a halt. It’s not the violence he revels in, it’s Reno’s skill. He hasn’t entertained the idea of that violence turned on him in a very long time, and never like this. Maybe he's guilty of underestimating Reno after all. 

Reno bends low to kiss the base of his spine and he trembles. Even without the arm hooked under his hips, he feels trapped. He might be able to push up on his elbows. If he can manage that, he could maybe pull away. 

But all he does is let out a miserable moan. Reno told him he could take it, and foolishly, he wants it to be true. The ebb and flow of unwelcome nerves crashes up against the immutable truth that he can’t pass up this wholly unique opportunity—here, like this, he can experience Reno without outside interference or enforced limits. 

“You’re gonna take it,” Reno says, his mouth hot on Rufus’s back, oblivious to the war happening beneath him. It takes everything Rufus has and somehow nothing at all to quell the last dissent of warning bells and to remain still and silent. “I’m gonna give it all to you,” Reno promises, and between biting kisses and another twist, every uncertain thought, any doubt about how he should feel about this trepidation, evaporates. He’s utterly empty, ready to receive. 

The next push doesn’t come. 

The plug slides out, more slipping free than he thought had been inside him. Relief is tangled up so tightly with pleasure he can’t tell one from the other. There’s no chance to catch his breath, to whisper the thank you Reno is owed. Reno’s fingering him as soon as the plug is out, pushing in so fucking easily, holding fluttering muscle wide with no effort at all. The same air that hadn't offered even a hint of it before is now shockingly cool on tender inner flesh. 

Grateful for the reprieve, he readies his body for the plug again. The tip skims past his hole, presses up behind his balls and he tenses up reflexively, unsure if Reno’s going to offer pleasure or pain. 

Reno could be thinking about forgetting the plug. He makes it no secret that he prefers hands-on despite his willingness to play with toys. This isn’t his first opportunity since Costa del Sol to fist Rufus again, but it is the first that he’s shown any serious interest in cramming more than his dick or his fingers in Rufus’s ass. 

“You remember what you said?” Reno asks, and Rufus shakes his head. He’s said a lot of things to Reno, things he’s sure Reno doesn’t really believe he could want. “Asked me if I want to make you a whore for me.” 

Any response he could dig up is lost with Reno’s weight behind the plug pushing back into him. Being shoved down and used on Reno’s cold kitchen floor digs into him like a burr. The way Reno watched him, the aftermath with his head fogged, the feeling of distance between him and the world like falling into the ocean, suspended and weightless with pressure bearing in on all sides. 

His shattered control whenever Reno takes an order and manipulates it to his own liking. Something he should expect, accept as inevitable. But instead, fury like a spike driven into his skull, his will crumbled like rusted iron in Reno’s hands. 

Everything in this moment feels so fucking right. He never should’ve tried to take control at all. He should've given himself up to Reno from the start, let Reno unravel him entirely before stitching him back together. It wouldn't be the end of the world for Reno to see him completely and utterly undone. Fuck, Reno had seen him at his weakest, body broken. At his most ruthless, ugly with cold hatred. How much worse could it be?

“Reno,” Rufus moans against the teeth marks mottled red and white on his arm. “Reno, make me take it all this time,” and more noises spill free, desperate wanting denied as Reno lets it slide all the way out, in again, fucking him loose with it but never letting him have the whole of it. 

Rufus’s splayed hand smacks into the floor. “More, goddammit, _more_. You said I could—” His teeth clack painfully together as his jaw snaps shut. He hears Reno spit, knows it’s directly into his hole though he can’t feel it through the heat and lube. His body is forced wide, wider still where the plug’s flare peaks. 

Reno holds it there. Suspended on the cusp in Reno's hands, fragile and dependent on his erratic whims, is one of the worst things Rufus has ever felt. The worst, and one of the most incredible. He’s so close to being full, if only Reno would give it that last push. So close to the slow, slick slide of being emptied, if only Reno would let go. 

He’d beg for it, if only he knew which Reno would like him to want more. 

A quick, sharp ache and the plug settles into place. Endless moans crowd into and tumble from his throat. Muscle stretched to its limit over and over again tries vainly to clench tight and hold it in. Rufus would laugh if he had the breath. It’s in him now, and regardless of what he or his body wants, it will be until Reno decides otherwise. 

A sharp slap to his ass brings his mind jolting back to immediate sensation. Reno’s hands are all over him again, scratching welts into skin just to soothe them, twisting the plug and rocking it deep just to let it go so soon, press a gentle kiss above it. The noises echoing in his ears are pitched high and broken, but broken is the last thing Rufus feels. 

“That enough for you?” Reno asks, low and dark and not even close to a real question when he can see how easily he’s taking Rufus apart. That edge is back in his voice, rasping across Rufus’s skin. “Stuffed so full you can't fucking breathe. You know what you look like, pink little asshole fucked open, all puffy and hot?" 

_Tell me_ , Rufus wants to say, unable to form words. Hands skim up his sides, slip down to grip his shoulders from below. Reno bends low as he pulls Rufus back snug against his cock, making the plug push harder at his insides. Teeth scraping skin, hips rolling, Reno fucks the plug into him perfectly thick and somehow not enough when a moment ago it had been too much. 

A harsh whisper in his ear, Reno says, “You want more,” like a demand, a promise. As if he knows Rufus will want whatever he's told to want. “I’d burn your whole fucking city to the ground to make you a whore for me. You tell me what you want, Rufus. You tell me, you moan it for me, and I'll give you any fucking thing in this whole goddamn world."

And that's all he can do, moan and shudder at Reno’s touch, lean into every tiny hurt, every gentling caress and velvet kiss that follows. He desperately wants Reno to know how good it feels, how heavy and full and connected to him he is. He needs to say it, to show it somehow. 

He forces up onto his elbows just far enough to really bear Reno’s weight. The plug angles deeper, pushes at places that make his stomach lurch. Between panting breaths he finds the air to hiss out Reno’s name and gives voice to the hunger eating him up inside, rough pleas for Reno to not stop, never stop. His dick swings heavily between his legs, the head soaked in precome smearing the insides of his thighs. 

"Fuck yes," he says, unsure if they're even words any more and not just sounds helpless and ragged. "I'd be your whore. Reno, fuck, I—" It feels like he already is, on his knees, ass filled, wanting Reno to claw and bite and leave marks secret and treasured beneath his suit tomorrow. He’ll take anything, give up everything, for just the chance. 

His arms shake, collapse, and he's down on his chest again rocking to the rhythm Reno sets. His ears fill with the sound of his own soft pleading when Reno’s hand skims under his belly, knuckles brushing his cock. 

Like Reno can hear every word, his hands turn cruel, pinching and twisting at oversensitive flesh. Rufus groans a yes to whatever Reno says: Yes, a filthy whore on his knees licking the dirt from his boots; yes, his mouth open and tongue out for anything Reno wants to feed him; yes, even that, he’ll beg for Reno to piss down his throat, suck Reno’s cock clean and hard, swallow his come and then lick him clean again until his tongue aches, rasps dry over anything Reno shoves in his mouth.

Reno's palm clamps over his mouth and nose, salt-sweat heat burning his lips. His legs almost go out from under him when Reno lays into his ass, one hard, stinging smack after another that makes him claw at the blanket, at the carpet beneath. Low sounds of raw need turn to whimpers, soft and shameful, that he tries and fails to mask. It only makes his dick ache all the more, makes him crave Reno’s hand on the back of his neck to hold him down, grind his face into the floor. 

The plug pulls free, rips a cry straight from the very pit of his stomach. His cock throbs with his pulse. His ass is hollow, gaping, too well-stretched to even try to close up properly. Words burrow into his flesh, stay hooked under his skin as Reno pulls him open, licks at his insides exposed and vulnerable. 

He feels Reno lean back, and all he can imagine is Reno’s dick in him when he’s like this, how soft and hot and loose he is, how Reno’s come will just pour out of him. He wants Reno to haul him to the mirror, to fuck him with his legs up and show him the filth dripping out of his wide-open hole. 

What he gets is Reno's cock and liquid filling him up, a hot jet of piss swirling inside him like a goddamn enema. 

It's over too fast. He can't make a sound with airless lungs, can't plead for more. Something, anything, just _more_. His head is spinning, and then the plug is back, slipping in all the way slick on lube and piss, and finally he manages a shaky moan meant to be Reno's name. 

A hand at his throat, one in his hair dragging him sideways, shoving his face into Reno's lap. He takes Reno's cock into his mouth like he hasn't tasted it in weeks, lips clamped tight and sucking, bitter-salt taste sharp on his tongue, filling his mouth like it filled his ass. Above him, jaw clenched, Reno grits out, "Do it, you do it just like you said." 

_Be your whore_ , Rufus thinks, and shoves Reno's dick into his throat, gagging and barely noticing it. Dozens of angry scratches flare to life with every possessive, claiming sweep of Reno's hand, the tiny stinging pains a counterpoint to the fierce ache when Reno bends over him, toys with the plug. He's as marked by them as he is by what's inside him, the smell of it, the feel of it, runny wet and leaking from the plug's edges to run down his thighs. 

Sprawled in Reno's lap, he wraps a hand around Reno's cock and does his best to jerk it in time with his mouth, foreskin bunching against his lips as pleasure too warm, too bright, builds and builds. It spills up and sweeps over him when Reno comes, threatening to set him completely adrift. He won't stop until every last drop is in his mouth, his every breath heavy with its smell, another mark to bear. 

When there's nothing left for him to take, his mouth full, his body goes lax with satisfaction in Reno's hold. He's grateful and glad that Reno steadies him, both hands buried in his hair, to keep fucking his face. Saliva and come leak from the corners of his mouth, his numb lips and sore jaw struggling to hold it all in. The back of Reno's hand brushes his cheek and curls under his chin. Tired muscles strain to keep his lips tight as Reno tilts his face up, the effort almost wasted when Reno's thumb ghosts across the point of his chin.

"Open your mouth," Reno orders, cursing when he obeys immediately, rolls his tongue out to let it spill over his chin and drip onto Reno's cock. He licks it all back up again with sweeping passes of his tongue, uncaring when the mess on his face smearing right back over cleaned skin is just an excuse to keep going, keep Reno's taste in his mouth fresh with every little lick bringing it to life again. 

Between melting words of praise, Reno says, "You're gonna crawl for me," and Rufus aches at just the suggestion of it, knowing it would be agony, each shaky slide of his knees making the plug shift inside him, press against his prostate.

By slow degrees, he realises he's not even sure if he's come or not. Air brushes cold against the mess on his legs, but that could be lube or piss or all the precome forced out of his dick. And yet he's content all the same, pressing forward with his face nestled in the crook of Reno's thigh. Hands stroke his hair, run over his body as if he's something to be owned, coveted. How many times had he touched Reno exactly like this? Was it the same for him? Did he get off on it, crave more of it?

"You're gorgeous like this," Reno says, hands sliding back to cradle Rufus's face. He dips down to take Rufus's mouth so softly his breath is stolen all over again, that warm glow surging to the forefront as Reno tells him how beautiful he sounds, how all he wants to do is catch every gasp, every noise and sweet, hesitant whimper on his tongue, swallow them down like Rufus swallowed his come. 

Rufus closes his eyes, swamped with feelings he doesn't care to name when it's so easy to simply enjoy the lassitude sapping his strength. Reno's pushed him around before, played at being in control, but this is the first it's ever felt real. The first he's given himself over totally and completely, his own pleasure incidental, his needs superseded by the desire to truly meet Reno's. 

The aftermath in Reno's apartment was less than a shadow of this. 

Sweat-damp hair is pushed back from his forehead. Lips touch his brow, pause at his temple. "Time to get up, sweetheart," Reno murmurs, and rocks back up onto his feet. Sudden dizziness rushes in to take the place of his heat. "I'm right here. Crawl to me."

He gravitates to the sound of Reno's voice, the only thing that matters in a world narrowed down to the space between them. He gets one hand under him, then the other, levering muzzily up to his knees. Gathering his thoughts takes longer. 

"Fuck, yes, that's it," Reno breathes. "You're so hard, baby."

He bows his head, the rush of his blood too loud. He focuses on the carpet soft under his knees, the individual fibres rough against his hands. The first inch is hard as hell, every sliver of ground gained worse than the last with his ass so full, the plug feeling like it's pushed in so far it bumps against his ribs. It rubs in all the wrong places, and far too many of the right ones. 

Bits and pieces of whisper-harsh encouragement filter through the haze. His arms shake, barely holding him. The sound humming through the air grows louder; a near-whine, near-moan he can feel deep in his chest pleading with Reno to wait, don't move back another step and make him follow.

Impossibly, the plug feels like it's swelling up bigger inside him, touching everywhere at once. A warm, wet trickle creeps down his thigh. All that fucking could've torn something up inside him after all and he wouldn't know, can't feel it with how far outside himself he's drifting. 

Reno wouldn't leave him bleeding like that, he's sure of it. To Reno, he's something to be protected, something to be valued and used and cherished, and made ready to be used again. He just isn't clenching as tightly around the plug as he thinks and the mess inside him is leaking out, a filthy trail left in his struggling wake. He's as much ashamed at that failure as he is proud of it as proof he'll do whatever Reno wants, whatever it takes. 

His name leaves Reno's lips on an awed moan. He drags his knee forward again, fumbles and falls onto his chest. Fingertips dig into the carpet as he tries to pull himself another few inches, another few feet, to earn that promised reward. The lassitude is gone, burned up in the need to reach Reno, to be given the release he can't give himself. 

"Get up," Reno tells him as he starts to tremble. 

Muscle refuses to obey; his thighs tense, try to brace to push up, and that's enough to make the plug shift, sap what strength he managed to muster. He clenches his teeth in a silent snarl, the taste of admitting defeat bitter and oily in his mouth. "I can't."

"Only a little more."

He swallows, his mouth and throat dry, lightheaded as he looks up. Silhouette dark in the light spilling from the bathroom, the lean lines of Reno's body are still too far away to touch. "Fuck it, _I can't_."

Reno doesn't ask again. 

Overcome by that more than his failure, he drops his gaze to the floor. No matter how badly Reno wants it of him, he can't keep going. But he can't stay as he is, either. Left long enough, eventually his body will be exhausted and he won’t have a choice in what happens next. As hard as it is to accept his limits, giving up entirely because of them would be so much worse. The risk of never seeing Reno look at him like this again is unbearable. 

Reno could leave, so Rufus begs him to stay. 

One handing curling into a fist, he holds the other out to Reno in a silent plea for mercy. He waits with his head bowed, a fine shaking starting in his fingers and travelling up through his arm. When Reno doesn’t move, he presses his forehead to the floor, says faintly, “I can’t,” one last time, and means _please_. 

Reno drops down to one knee. "Then you fucking squeeze as tight as you can," he says, taking Rufus’s hand and drawing his arm over his shoulder, "or you're sleeping in here alone with the stink of piss in the carpet." Gathering Rufus close, he quickly pushes up to his feet. 

The sudden movement rips a cry from Rufus's throat and Reno groans, clutches tighter at his side. Enveloped by Reno's warmth, his smell and his strength, the sickening fear of abandonment is gone like it never was. Reno's eyes are so bright, glittering as the shadows fall away. Pride Rufus isn't sure he deserves to feel wells up; he put that look on Reno's beautiful face.

Carried like this into the bathroom dead weight in Reno’s arms, it's so much like when the geostigma was at its worst, eating away at his body and leaving him crumpled on the floor more than once. He’d known to rely on his Turks long before then, but as Reno had carried him in here day after day with either a steady stream of flippant jokes at the ready or stony-lipped silence, he learned what it meant to depend on them.

Reno props him against the cold tile in the shower, angled in front to shield him from the spray of near-scalding water. "Now you push it out," he says, and it was never like this, never greedy hands on Rufus's body, never orders as harsh as his care was kind. Searching fingers find the plug, grip tight and tug. "You fucking push it all out."

Rufus's head falls back, mouth gone slack, arms clinging to Reno’s neck as his body balks, the natural reaction to push warring with the need for muscle to keep trying to close regardless how stretched and tired. He bears down as hard as he can, and still the damn thing feels like it barely moves. Gulping air gone thick with steam, he groans a curse and drops his head to Reno's shoulder. He tries again, and again, and aching muscle finally gives way. The plug slides free too fast, the rush of liquid down his legs nothing at all like the slow seep of come.

If Reno still had hold of the plug or if it hits the tile, Rufus doesn't know. All he knows is the feel of being drawn close, arms wrapped firm around him, and a shivering touch trailing down his spine to curve between the cheeks of his ass. Fingertips press where muscle spasms, sink in to feel from the inside as it tries in vain to tighten up. A harsh breath stirs the ends of Rufus's hair. 

"Hold onto me," Reno says, dropping to one knee, forearm pressed across Rufus’s hips hard enough to bruise. "Don't you fucking fall."

Even if it seems like there's no way in hell Rufus's legs will hold, he doesn’t fall. Reno would never let him, he thinks, and then Reno is sucking in air, mouth shoved down over his dick. His legs shake, the head of his cock barely caught in Reno's throat before he‘s swallowing. Everything shatters, melts in white hot pleasure and a shorebreak crash of relief. 

He's still reeling, eyes open but unfocused, when Reno rises up. He blinks at the soft touch of Reno's lips. It all feels so unreal. Everywhere Reno isn't, he's weightless, drifting. 

He responds reflexively to the push of Reno’s tongue into his mouth, expecting the spill of come swapped between them, but there's nothing. He huffs a quiet laugh that Reno's taken even that from him tonight.

Content to rely on a strength not his own, he drapes his arms over Reno's shoulders and hangs heavily in his hold. There's a strange sort of tenderness in their kiss, no claiming crush or hard-edged demand. Only simple pleasure and gathering warmth. 

He has no idea which one of them sighs as the kiss slows. He says, "I think you might need to—" and then his knees buckle, nearly sending them both crashing down, but Reno's too quick for that. A sharp warning curse becomes a sharper grunt as he hits the wall, pinned in place by Reno's weight and he laughs again, louder and more freely. "Scratch that. You're _going_ to have to help me back to the bedroom."

"Sure thing," Reno agrees, eyes lit with something a little like wonder. "Get right on it, soon as we can walk."

There's a touch of that same wonder in his own expression, Rufus suspects. In the space of only a few hours he's seen more kinds of strength from Reno than most people have shown him in a lifetime. Though he's never felt the need to explain Reno's presence to anyone with the personal depth of a puddle and he never will, he's sure that when next someone inevitably dares question it, he'll remember this moment. 

One of Reno's wild grins flashes in the corner of his eye. That and Reno shifting his weight to shoulder it more solidly are his only warnings to the sudden drop of the floor from beneath his feet.

Reno drops him into the spray, arms tight around his waist. "Fumble around and see if you can find us some soap or something. I know how pissed you get when somebody messes up your nice clean sheets."

Closer to telling Reno fuck the sheets than he's ever been, somewhere he finds a reserve of energy to grope around for the nook in the wall. Too exhausted to do much more and with the heat of the water soaking into him, making him want nothing so badly as he wants to collapse into bed, he slaps the bar of soap to Reno's chest. "There. Go crazy."

Reno mutters complaints and steers him into the corner where it'll be easier to hold him up. Whatever he'd meant to say in response falls from his lips in a mumble as soap-slick hands run firmly over his chest, his cock, down his legs and back up again. His curse at fingers pushing behind his balls and soap stinging his hole is much clearer and completely ignored. Any other time—and most likely when he wakes in the morning—he'd appreciate Reno's thoroughness. For now all he offers is a token effort of help in rinsing off and the rest is a blur of cool air on heated skin, a careful spill onto the closed toilet lid to rest while Reno dries off, then the drape of a towel and more warmth as Reno does the same for him. 

If he had known, or even considered that Reno would be tempted to carry him back to bed bridal style, he would've happily said go for it. Even with Reno's help, the return trip is as exhausting as getting to the bathroom in the first place, but every lingering ache is only another form of satisfaction. 

A different sort of warmth rises as he's set down on the bed on the side Reno habitually takes—or takes over on the rare occasion Rufus is first to bed. It comes out in a small smile as he lays naked on top of the sheets and waits for Reno to realise the flaw in his plan.

"Yeah, just say something." Reno tugs the bedding free from the opposite side and flings it back. The frown creasing his forehead is deep and entirely disingenuous. "See if you ever get one of those damn things in me. Roll over."

The sheets are blessedly cool, freshly laundered and crisp. The coverlet on the floor is decidedly not. He considers sending Reno to fetch a replacement from the linen closet and almost immediately dismisses the thought. For all Reno's complaints of how low the air is set, he always runs warm; in sleep, all the more so. With Reno sprawled halfway to on top of him within the hour, a single sheet will be fine.

Breaking from their usual nighttime routine, Reno hesitates, his knee barely denting the mattress. As bemusing as it is to see Reno dither about anything, the fact of something so intimate as preparing for bed shared often enough to become routine catches Rufus off guard. 

He's accustomed to Reno as a daytime constant much the same as any other Turk trusted enough by Tseng to act as a solo escort. As one of the most loyal, one of the first Rufus truly claimed as his, and Vice Director of a still-recovering and key department, Reno's de facto position at his side is simply logical. 

Logical, like the place of a lover in his bed. In his life. 

"Boss?"

Rufus looks up. Darkness deepens the shadowed cut of muscle on Reno's ribs. Damp hair clings to the side of his neck, curls across his shoulder and down his arm like ink. Blood-spattered and vicious, confident and cocksure, or driven out of his mind with desperation and the taint of fear, Reno is mesmerizing. Even now, his mouth soft, voice tired and body spent, it's impossible not to stare. 

"You're okay, yeah?"

"I'm fine," Rufus says, curling onto his side. All the aches, the scrapes and marks, the strain of muscles pulled taut for too long will be gone by morning. And if not, Reno knows the code to the safe where the materia are kept. The rest Rufus puts aside. It's late, and he feels too good to be troubled by things he doubts he'll want to change any time soon. "Just get in."

Reno slides in, slides close, and for once it's Rufus pressed tight to his side, arm slung over his waist, cheek pillowed on his shoulder. He predictably wriggles to get comfortable, toying with the wet ends of Rufus's hair as his breathing evens out. 

Already at the edge of sleep, Rufus feels the weight of being watched. Lips brush his temple, linger as if Reno is too tired for anything else. A thought about the nature of change drifts through his mind only to be forgotten in the peace of being held.

*

End


End file.
